


When We Were Young

by AlannasTara, meeshiefeet



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge Response, F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/pseuds/AlannasTara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeshiefeet/pseuds/meeshiefeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In that split-second she saw it mirrored in him, the push and pull of her brain and her chest, and the outside perspective gave her such instant and clear insight she nearly dropped her mug as she placed it back on its saucer."</p>
<p>Faced with the choice of love or ambition, Daryl and Carol must face a harsh reality of life. What will win out in the end?</p>
<p>Co-written by Illusianation as well, who doesn't have an account here, but still rocks. =)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nine Lives holiday team write challenge. Inspiration and the idea for this fic came from song "When We Were Young" by Adele. Here we present a little dance between the present and the past. Happy holidays, everyone!!

“Keep the change,” Daryl told the cabbie, passing him a fifty dollar bill. “Merry Christmas.”

He turned from the cab, looking up at the grand white marble structure before him. Tonight’s job was one he was anticipating for several reasons, and yet trying to avoid thinking about, for those very same reasons. There was incredible prestige to be had in being asked to photograph an event such as this - which was the main reason he was the one chosen to cover it. Being the head photographer of Setty Publishing House had its perks.

Not only would the President and several high level cabinet members be in attendance, but several A-list celebrities were on the VIP list as well.

He stopped alongside of the building and pulled out a cigarette to settle his nerves. His stomach was knotted up at what waited for him inside the landmark memorial.

_She was going to be here._

A last minute addition to the troupe that was performing for the President, he hadn't known about her attendance when he arranged to be in the Press Corp covering the event.

His hands were shaking and he knew he had to get it under control before he started shooting. Taking one last drag on his smoke, he dropped the butt in the receptacle, and adjusted his shoulder bag containing his equipment.

Pulling out his pass, he made his way to the entrance designated for the press and prepared for the security inspection to make sure he wasn't smuggling any weapons or bombs. Another perk of covering such a prestigious event - full body cavity searches.

He chuckled at his thoughts, catching the attention of the agent in the doorway.

“Another night, another dollar, huh Dixon?”

“They’re not all as fancy as this one, Oscar. Try to stay warm. It’s pretty chilly out there.”

He made his way to the the area where the press waited, and he got his equipment ready, measuring the lighting, setting the shutter speeds and aperture, and taking some test shots. He needed to make sure he covered the arrival of the important guests, and then take some shots for stock material for the publishing house.

He dug into his shoulder bag for the small padded case that held his different lenses; a gift from long ago, it had his initials monogrammed in the worn leather covering. It had seen better days and he probably could’ve replaced it long ago...if it wasn’t the last thing _she_ had given to him. He refused to surrender it to old age and obsoletion, even going so far as to duct tape the shoulder strap together when it started falling apart. His finger brushed gently across the strip of silver adhesive. There were some things he just couldn’t let go.

 

* * *

 

She couldn't quite describe the feeling burrowed deep in her chest. Earlier it lay somewhere between amusement and pity. Now it had changed to something else. Unfamiliar, though not unwelcome.

This man sitting across the faux-marbled Formica table, one minute avoiding eye contact, the next staring at her with startling intensity, was a puzzling curiosity. Disconcerting. Intriguing. And staring back at him now, she could feel the pulse thrumming in her neck at a rapid clip.

Maybe it was the caffeine, the only redeeming quality of the coffee in their mugs. Or maybe it was the way her face ached from the smile that had barely left it since the second cup. Then again, maybe it was the joke he'd just made, both terrible and amusing, about sticking together. Emphasis on s _ticking_ , but her mind seemed to be getting more stuck on the way he licked his lips nervously after the word _together_. Duct tape may have held the world together, but she'd never guessed it would have brought two strangers to this diner, making small talk between nervous smiles and shared details of what brought them from the outskirts to the heart of Atlanta. Her, a lifetime of vigorous study, an ongoing war against blisters and a touchy achilles tendon, and a fiery passion that culminated in a scholarship to a prestigious ballet school. Him, a dusty old camera found in his grandmother's basement, a chance meeting on the farm where he’d found some seasonal work, and an apprenticeship with the city's most-celebrated photographer.

Carol sipped her coffee, eyeing the roll of dull gray tape sitting on the table between them, scheming how to get it back into the janitor's closet at the studio. Her thoughts of sweet-talking the elderly custodian into unlocking it were interrupted when he spoke.

"So, uh, thanks again for savin’ my ass with that light rig. Thought I was gonna lose my job over a stripped screw," he said.

"Thank you for the coffee," she said, "and if you need a screw, there's a place around the corner."

The words had barely left her mouth when she realized how they sounded, and she looked at him in horror. She'd known this guy for all of two hours before her inadvertent proposition. To his credit, he muffled the laugh he couldn't quite hold back, his smile easing the heat that had risen in her cheeks.

"I mean… there's a hardware store," she said. "I could walk you there, after…."

She gestured at their mugs, the fourth refill now lukewarm and nearly gone. He'd wanted to thank her somehow after she'd helped him out with her surreptitiously acquired tape during the photo shoot at the school. She'd wanted better company than her barely tolerable roommate back at the dorm. And so they ended up in this diner, and she found herself thinking of ways to stretch out her time with him a little longer. To maybe identify that persistent feeling she couldn't quite shake, the one that made a thousand thoughts swirl at the edges of her mind, and quieted everything, inexplicably and all at once.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Daryl replied, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as his blue eyes shyly met hers and held there, uncertain at first, then steady and sure. In that split-second she saw it mirrored in him, the push and pull of her brain and her chest, and the outside perspective gave her such instant and clear insight she nearly dropped her mug as she placed it back on its saucer.

She was in trouble. And she liked it.

 

* * *

 

Once he had exhausted every opportunity to forestall the inevitable, he slipped into the Opera House, slinking along the perimeter. Keeping to the shadows, he took in the grand opulence of the stage. The splendid red and gold Austrian chandelier sparkled, twinkling in thousands of crystal facets, while the rich velvet and crimson staining the floor and walls bespoke the magnificence of the venue. Its lavish appointments had not waned in the last fifteen years.

Daryl absorbed it all, soaking in every last detail, committing it to memory as one of the crowning achievements in the career she had worked so hard for and for which she had sacrificed so much. She’d never know just how proud he was of her or how he followed her career throughout the years, cheering every success, and mourning each setback.

He took his place in the wings, waiting for the performance to start.

It was a powerful thing to behold. The symphony orchestra played, notes of Tchaikovsky floating on the air. All of the dancers - from the chorus to the principals - their bodies moving in harmony with the music...it was something that had never lost its hold on him. He waited, with baited breath, to see her take the stage, to command with her presence, to move with grace and agility, and hold the audience in the palm of her hand. Like so many others, from the first time he’d seen her dance, he was captivated.

 

* * *

 

_Support, don't tense up. Relax the fingers. Act the part._

Carol could feel it as she heard her teacher's voice in her head, that indescribable sensation of knowing every movement, every expression, was exactly as they had envisioned. She was _on_. Her performance was the best it had ever been, and she knew it. They all knew it, every last person in the auditorium. The hush that had fallen over the audience, the strain of emotion in the notes coming from the orchestra, the way the other dancers responded to her on the stage. It was magic, and she was part of that magic.

This was it. Everything she ever wanted. The make-or-break performance where representatives from ballet companies the world over were watching, and she wasn't crumbling under the pressure as she feared she might. Instead, she felt the fire rise up from her core and launched into the finale, leaping and spinning and living the part. Her partner caught her and they both pirouetted into the closing position, holding it until the curtain fell. Carol looked up at her classmate, beaming back at her, and they leapt to their feet and hugged excitedly. The roar of the audience filled their ears, and through joyous tears she spotted Daryl standing in the wings, camera at his side, looking at her with such awe she nearly burst.

She had never been happier than in this moment.

The company took their bows, soaking in the excitement of the crowd, everyone on their feet. Carol held her breath as the seconds ticked away until the curtain fell for the final time. When the hem of it finally met the raked wooden stage, she sprinted toward him, slowing just enough to avoid bumping the camera as she threw her arms around his neck. She reveled in him. His warmth, the subtle scent of his skin, his voice rasping low against her ear. Knowing she had made him proud was all the reward she wanted right now.

"You were… you were incredible," he said, his voice catching slightly in his throat. He cleared it and held her tighter. "Beautiful."

She pulled back to see his face, but he swooped in closer, brushing his lips against hers. The surprise of it, of him kissing her in front of a crowd of her fellow dancers, nearly took her breath away. When they parted he searched her face, looking for what, she didn't know. She touched his cheek and gazed up at him.

"Thank you."

"You really were beautiful. You _are_ ," he said, looking at her for a moment longer before shifting away from her, stashing his camera in his bag. "Got some great shots."

"You always do, even when I'm not feeling beautiful. You find the beauty in everything, in things that most people would look at and see nothing special. You see it. You have talent."

He shrugged and knelt down, stowing his tripod and extra lenses, avoiding looking at her. She felt the shift, the closing off. He'd been doing it more often lately, and she didn't want to push him, but a minute ago she'd been on top of the world, and now she was tumbling down and wanted to know why.

"What is it?" she asked. "What’s wrong?"

He looked up at her, startled. "What?"

"You've been so different lately. One minute you're like you always have been. You seem happy. And the next you're… I don't know. You look at me and you're different. Did I do something?"

A pained expression crossed his face and he abandoned the equipment, standing quickly and wrapping her up in his arms again.

"I'm sorry. Never meant… I didn't realize…. It's not that at all."

"What is it then?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"It's, well, I never expected to, uh…." He cleared his throat again and she felt his muscles tense around her.

She stepped back from him, gathering her strength as her heart pounded in her chest, preparing for the worst.

"Just say it, Daryl. Whatever it is. I need to hear it."

He shook his head slightly, reaching for her and kissing her again, stronger than before, longer. She was torn between reciprocating and making him stop, but before she could decide, he ended the kiss and held her there, his hands cupping her face gently as he spoke.

"Everything… just… everything about you. Your grace and your mind and your dreams. Your stubborn streak. The way you laugh and cringe at the same time when I make a lame joke. The way your push yourself even when you're exhausted and in pain, never giving up. Your passion and your drive. You say I have talent, finding the beauty in things, and maybe I do, but I can't help it with you. That's all there is. There's nothing else to find."

Carol's heart dropped to her stomach.

"What are you saying? That there's nothing… there's nothing between us?"

"No," he said quickly, muttering a curse under his breath. "Look, I'm not good at this, but I'm trying to say…. God, there's nothing about you that isn't beautiful. That's what I… that you're just… you're…."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath before opening them and calmly started again.

"I'm saying that I love you. I love you and I never thought I-"

She didn't let him finish, stopping his mouth with hers, pulling him closer against her as she expressed her own feelings without words. Not only had she just given the performance that would make her career, she now realized that in the past ten months, she had given him her heart. Fully. And he had done the same.

She began to laugh and broke off the kiss as it dawned on her that she had been wrong earlier. Utterly and completely wrong.

She was never happier than in _this_ moment.

 

* * *

 

So much had changed. She was different. The years of physical conditioning showed in the long, lean lines of her toned and supple form. Yet, she was exactly the same. She danced with the same bewitching elegance that had beguiled him from the start, shining like a star in the inky night sky, illuminating everyone and everything around her.

As she twirled and leapt across the stage, soaring in the arms of her partner, his heart thudded in his chest, speeding up and slowing down in rhythmic beats timed to the music. His whole world shrunk to this stage and this theater, time and space ceasing to exist as each note, each step, each curve melted into one dream. It was as if no one else was there and she was dancing solely for him.

Her pale skin shone brightly and her hair sparkled like diamonds crowning her beneath the blue tinted lighting that engulfed the stage.

She literally stole his breath away as he watched her bow alongside the rest of the ballerinas, and he felt the thrum of energy pouring off her flow through him. Even after all these years, she still had the ability to affect him in ways no one else ever had.

He left the Opera House to get his camera ready for the post-performance Gala. The din of the tables filling up, crystal glasses tinkling, and voices of the guests mingling amongst themselves all became white noise to him as he meandered through the tables, capturing the elite enjoying the rather extravagant event.  He circled the room, testing the lighting almost by rote, while his mind was stuck in the past, remembering a night not much different than this one that had changed the course of their lives forever.

When he packed his suitcase for that fateful trip, he’d thought for sure it would turn out differently. He’d planned it all out in his head. The interview. The tickets for Romeo and Juliet at Kennedy Center to surprise her. He’d mapped out their lives and dreams following their hearts’ desires, and it never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be by his side when he pictured their futures. He never guessed that at the end of that trip he would be placing that ring back in his suitcase, tucked securely, reverently underneath a tear-stained suit jacket.

He was so lost in his memories that he never heard her approach, and was startled by the gentle touch to his elbow. Whipping his head around, his breath escaped him in a whiff of surprise and he struggled to maintain his composure at seeing her standing there, so close to him.

“Carol…”

He didn’t know what to say to her. He’d not imagined they would actually come face to face with each other, especially in such a large crowd.

“I thought that was you!” Carol exclaimed, her smile joyful though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He’d never had trouble reading her emotions when they were together, and even now, he could tell she was fighting to keep herself closed off. That she was experiencing that same tumult he was, but she was guarding herself.

He’d never been able to guard himself from her. She’d torn through every one of his walls and left him defenseless.

“How...how are you?”  

That was lame, he thought. He’d also never been very good with his words when he was around her. Some things never changed.

“I’m doing well. You?”

The conversation was stilted, empty pauses that were filled instead with all the words he couldn’t say to her.

“Yeah. Same.”

Their eyes met and held, their gazes drinking in one another as if they’d been stranded in a desert for too long. He noted all the small differences time had made, the tiny lines created by laughter, by worry. Each new freckle sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. The darkened and lightened strands of silky, silver hair, cut close in a fashionable pixie cut.

They seemed to be under a spell, one that was only broken when a gentleman in a tux with a fancy earpiece came to inform Carol that the President wanted to meet her.

She flashed an apologetic look to Daryl, and he waved her off.

“Can’t keep the President waiting,” Daryl said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“It was good seeing you,” she said softly, stepping closer for a moment before backing away, as if she were debating with herself.

“You, too,” Daryl spoke sincerely, his voice rough and laced with all the emotion he had kept stuffed away for so many years.

He watched as she walked away, her life full of all the success he could ever have wished for her, and he wondered if it felt as empty to her as it did to him. Wishing beyond wish that they could share it together.

 

* * *

 

"I saw the look on your face. You were mesmerized," he said, leaning on the railing and staring out over the Potomac. "That could be you. It should."

Carol swallowed hard against the lump building in her throat. This trip had been about him, his opportunity to meet with a major photo publishing house, and she was there to support him in every way she could. It wasn't until her downtime during his interview when she’d called her roommate, notorious for forgetting to water the plants, that she’d received the message. One more long-distance phone call later, and suddenly they both had decisions to make.

He'd surprised her with tickets to the Kennedy Center to watch the visiting San Francisco Ballet, taking her hand and guiding her out to the terrace after the performance, a shy smile on his face as he let her know his good news. They wanted him, here in D.C. like they'd hoped. It had worked out perfectly with the spot she was offered in the corps of the Washington Ballet. His smile never faded, his hand never left hers, until she told him her own news. Now they were both clutching the railing, staring out toward the water below.

"Maybe I could find something in London. There's gotta be publishers there I could look into," he said.

"No. You can't pass this up. Everything you've worked for, all the time you've invested. You're finally getting the recognition you've earned. This is your chance, Daryl. And besides," she said, "I haven't said yes."

He pushed himself off the rail, pacing a few steps away from her and running his hand through his hair. When he turned around to face her again, she could almost hear her heart cracking like the ice on the river as it thawed in the spring warmth. He was her anchor. Her world. It wasn't fair, having to choose. She couldn't.

He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket before shaking his head. "Soloist, Carol. You'll be a soloist. On a track to be principal. You gotta take it."

"But everything we've planned-" she started.

"We'll start over. I'll look for an apprenticeship there, get my foot in the door. I'll figure something out."

"No!" she yelled, anger welling up in her at the thought of him starting at the bottom again. More than a few curious eyes landed on them and she forced herself to calm down, worried they might think he was trying to hurt her. He would never cause her pain, nor would she to him, but it seemed that circumstances were forcing it upon them anyway. They were both hurting, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

"I won't let you give up your dream for me," she said quietly, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill at any moment. He closed the distance between them, pulling his hand from his pocket and running his fingers along her cheek. His eyes mirrored hers, the sadness, even the threat of tears.

"I won't let you give up yours, either," he said. She couldn't hold herself back any longer and tucked her face into his shoulder, letting the tears flow as he wrapped her up, the two of them shivering despite the warm evening.

There was no other choice, not one that either of them could live with making, and they both knew. She held onto him until she felt herself surrender to it, until she accepted that there was no other way, and then lifted her head to face him.

"I love you," she said. "I always will."

He tried to speak, but he struggled, unable to get the words out before she kissed him, her lips lingering against his until she couldn't bear it any more.

"I know," she said, then hastily turned and walked away, leaving him on the terrace before she changed her mind.

 

* * *

 

She took a deep breath of the cold air as she slipped out the side door, nodding at the agent standing guard outside. The gala was nearly over, and the small talk and charm wasn't coming as easily to her now, not after seeing him. She'd nearly tripped over Yo-Yo Ma in her rush to get some fresh air, thankful the man had a wonderful sense of humor and the good grace to cover for the prima ballerina's sudden inexplicable clumsiness.

Carol slowly made her way across the terrace, each step taking her further back in time, back to the moment she stood near the railing and cried in Daryl's arms. Nearly seventeen years had passed, almost a doubling of their lives, yet seeing him tonight, she was right back there. The pain flickered through her, harsh and unyielding as the day she'd left him standing in this spot. It was the right decision for both of them, but knowing that had never made it hurt any less.

She grasped the railing, closing her eyes and wishing it had somehow been different. That they could have made it work, despite distance and the toll their careers took on their personal time. The ache for another life had never left her heart.

A warm hand covered hers and she stopped breathing, desperately wanting to open her eyes, but afraid. If it were someone else….

"It's colder than last time. Nearly freezing tonight."

His voice was the opposite, the warmth of it swirling through her and giving her the strength to open her eyes. Talking with him earlier had been awkward. Halting. They'd been surrounded by hundreds of strangers and she could tell she'd taken him by surprise, but the way he'd barely held his end of the conversation had made her wonder if she should have even tried. If the years had simply been too long in their passing, the distance too far to bridge again.

Now, as his eyes met hers in the pale light spilling from the windows, she swore she saw the old Daryl, wearing that same shy smile he'd had the last time they stood here. She couldn't help but return it.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. She tugged lightly at his hand, and he moved toward her, the two of them falling naturally into an embrace. She breathed him in, the rush of memories flooding back, then pulled away before her emotions got the better of her.

"Take my jacket" he offered, starting to take it off, but she shook her head.

"This is practically tropical. I've spent the last two years in Stockholm."

"I know," he said. "Thought you were still there, until today."

She blinked in surprise. "You knew I was in Stockholm?"

"I still read the arts section of the paper. Little habit you got me into. Never seemed to break it."

She was flattered. He'd kept up with their Sunday ritual. Kept up with her career, just as she'd kept tabs on his, finding his name in the photo credits of major news stories and high-profile events.

"Then you know I'm officially retired now?" she asked. Tonight had marked the end of her celebrated, but physically demanding, career.

"Yeah," he said, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Heard you only agreed because the First Lady asked you personally. True?"

She laughed as she marvelled at him, catching on to the snippets of gossip and drama of her world in the way only people who work behind the scenes can.

"What else do you know?" she asked.

"Afraid that's it," he said. "So, uh… where do you go from here? New York? Paris?"

He shifted, dropping eye contact and fiddling with his camera as though it would be needed again tonight. She glanced toward the party inside and saw only half as many people as when she'd made her way out here.

"Georgetown."

"Huh?" he asked, the camera forgotten as he stared at her again.

"I start teaching next fall. Taking a little time off to get settled in here before that. Paris is lovely, but I missed home. I thought about going back to Atlanta, but I haven't been there since…"

"Me, either."

It was her turn to fiddle, toying with some beading on the skirt of her gown as she looked out over the river again. She'd had opportunities to perform in both Atlanta and D.C. over the years, but had turned them down. Being near him, or near her memories of him, would have been a distraction. Her focus had to stay on her dancing if any of it was going to be worth it. In fact, she wasn't entirely certain that hadn't played into her success, knowing a thriving career was the only way she could live with leaving him here on this terrace. An old, familiar lump returned to her throat.

"So, uh, you're moving here?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, staring out at the dark water flowing below.

"Might need someone to show you around the city, then," he said, his voice edged with what sounded like hope. Or maybe she was imagining that. Projecting her own onto him.

She turned to see his expression, to figure out if she was hearing things, just as a snowflake landed on her shoulder. Another softly fell onto her cheek, and he reached up, wiping it from her face with his thumb, his eyes coming to rest on his hand, cradling her jaw.

"That might be nice, having someone to stick with," she said. His eyes drifted to hers, and she saw it mirrored there, the uncertainty that melted away like the snowflake against the warmth of her skin. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, just like that first time all those years ago.

She remembered when they were young, and for the first time since, it felt like joy.


End file.
